


to cut across the image of a star

by taskinst



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, coming of age again, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taskinst/pseuds/taskinst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this city, there wasn't a single roof that Niall and Harry hadn't been on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to cut across the image of a star

Most people tell me that I’d lived a largely sheltered life and hadn’t seen much of the world. But now more than ever, I found the things that I took for granted (too many) pushing their boundaries and showing me new sides that I’d never expected to see.

One of those things was a fumbling, stuttering, uncertain Niall Horan, who currently stood before me, soft rosy blush spreading across his face and reaching his ears and neck. One hand was behind his neck, scratching absently at a non-existent itch. His normally sparkling and bright blue eyes were downcast as he made it a point to avoid looking directly at me.

“U-hm, Harry, I, listen, I,” he stuttered on, his Irish accent particularly apparent now as he struggled to found the words to express what he wanted to convey. “I—ugh, I think I like… !!”

Silence. 

A frown marred the gap between his eyebrows as the words seemingly got caught in his throat and the pause between words felt like an eternity.  
  


* * *

  
Niall had always been the confident one of the two of us – the one who dared to break the rules and stand out. He had an absurdly high level of charisma and thrived in the crowd – people had always loved him for his confidence rather than despised him for being different. I guess that was where you found your unexpected leader – someone who was subtly commanding but without such an agenda.  

Yet we found ourselves standing on our favorite rooftop in the city, the late afternoon sun creating long shadows on the dull grey flooring. We usually lounged around on different rooftops together after school, but Niall asked to go specifically to this one today. Since this was our favorite roof – a wide open area on top of the national library that overlooked the adjacent park which contained a large lake and provided a particularly great view during sunset – we usually came back here every now and then. But normally Niall liked to explore new roofs every week.

There was literally no rooftop on any public building in the city that we hadn’t been on. There was a way to get to the roof in every building –I could guarantee. We started finding ways to break into roofs almost a week after we first met and became friends. We did it as a pastime as well as to find new exciting places to chill with different views every now and then. I would like to call myself sneaky and smart in terms of being able to figure how to get in and out of roofs just by taking a few strolls around a building, but to be honest most of the credit should go to Niall because he was the original expert anyway.  
  


* * *

  
On the outside, you would never guess, but we couldn’t be any more different. Our differences were glaring from day one.

Mum had decided to move closer to the city so she could get to work easier after taking up a new job in an accounting firm. Consequently I had to change schools as well. On the first day, I arrived in class dressed in my favorite dull orange sweater and a pair of fitted chinos, and as I walked past curious staring eyes, the blond kid whose seat was beside me turned and gave me a friendly smirk – it was almost a smile, but not really. Yet he oozed a sense of confidence that felt at once harmless yet subtly dangerous.

“Hey, posh boy,” he said with a distinctive Irish lilt. I turned to observe him as I plopped myself down on my seat. With his arms behind his head and a casual smile on his lips, he looked like your resident boy next door. His stance was natural and slack, leaning back on his chair as he lazily rocked back and forth, no pen on his desk beside his notebook. He had light shaggy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a boyish face – all of which added to the description. Yet there was something a little less innocent about him. Despite his seemingly sweet appearance, there was something about the way he angled his body, the way he smirked as he observed me, and the way he clicked his jaw and raised his eyebrows when I didn’t respond.

It started off only as a feeling, but not long after I knew it as a fact. We spoke a little more after realizing that we walked the same way home, splitting off only at the very end of the path into very different neighborhoods.

Despite surprisingly hitting off and getting along, Niall and I came from very different family backgrounds and had very different personalities. I was the stereotypical sheltered middle class kid, and especially up against Niall, my upbringing really showed. Niall, however, grew up in a divorced working class family, and he lived with his father, who was a butcher at the nearby supermarket. He didn’t notice these things though – I guess I was just a little taken aback when I first visited his home and the area he lived in. I’d never been to that kind of neighborhood.

We entered the building through a small entrance at the front that you would barely notice if you walked past. It was dark inside save for the blinking light bulb on the ceiling that definitely needed replacing.

“Come on,” Niall had said then. He reached out to hold my arm before ascending up the stairs. “Three floors up!”

I nodded and scrambled to keep up as he raced up the stairs, almost tripping over myself twice. We stopped in front of a door with a grey sliding gate in front. Niall jammed a key into the gate but cursed as the key got stuck and failed to turn. He began tugging at the gate and put a foot on the protruding door frame for assistance. After around thirty seconds of persistent wrenching, the gate finally slid to the side, leaving a gap large enough for us to slip through. Trying his hardest to keep a straight face, Niall began to tug at the metal key that was stuck in the keyhole. I wrapped a hand over his to help him out, but he slapped it away and smiled up at me.

“Don’t worry posh boy, I can handle it!”

“Gotta ask dad to call in someone to fix that,” Niall muttered under his breath as we slipped through the gap and he turned to force the gate to close before pushing the door shut. I let out a quiet chuckle and he turned to me with a smile. “Sometimes the gate gets like that… but you gotta have one of those here you know?”

The apartment had a living room and two bedrooms. It wasn’t big but it was certainly big enough. Cosy – I think, was a good word for it.  
  


* * *

  
“Niall talks about you all the time.”

Niall’s dad, Bobby, was a very kind man, and you could really see that Niall took after him a lot.

“Bobby!” Niall exclaimed and a blush spread across his face. “Quit embarrassin’ me.”

The man laughed and shook his head. “Sorry that he’s a bit of a handful.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll look after him,” I replied with a smile. Niall nudged me in the ribs and I folded over clutching my injury. “Jesus!”

“You’re not lookin’ after anybody.”

Niall had turned away to gaze out of the window then, but I could see the corner of his lips curve upwards as sat back up. Then I put an arm around his shoulders and pretended to let it rest there, surprising him when I suddenly pulled his head against my chest and began ruffling his hair.

“Oh my god, Harry!” he yelped as he tried to break free from my grasp. But my hold was stern as he tried to push me away. Instead, he began tickling my stomach, to which I edged away a little but didn’t relent. It was on.

We broke into a full on wrestling match on the sofa. Bobby continued on with whatever he was doing, unaffected by the commotion in his living room.  
  


* * *

  
“Holy shit!” was what came out of Niall’s mouth when he first visited my house. “You live here?”

I shrugged as the blond boy gasped and took in the flowers in the front yard. The bushes were neatly trimmed and everything was tidy and pleasant – my mum enjoyed looking after the garden on the weekends.

“Fucking hell, I knew you were posh but you didn’t tell me you were rich!” Niall added as he stepped into the house and froze as he stared up at the high ceiling.

“I’m not,” I mumbled in reply. I really wasn’t rich per se, but I guess you could say that my mum was good at this interior (and exterior) decorating stuff.

“What are you talking about?” Niall exclaimed as he pointed at an expensive-looking vase that was his own height. “What kind of purpose does this thing serve? Nothing. Only rich people would have so much money that they would spend it on something that just stands there.”

“I’m glad you’re so open about what you think of my house,” said a third voice – the voice got louder as the words were spoken.

When Niall turned from the vase to look at who was there, he almost knocked the vase over as he backed away in shock.

“Ms. Cox?” he managed to say without stammering. He had immediately reverted back to his innocent boy next door personality. “I’m Niall. I am so sorry, that was rude.” Niall reached out a hand so he could shake my mum’s. My mum took it and smiled.

“No, it’s refreshing to have someone who speaks his mind around here. Call me Anne, please,” my mum replied.

“Thank you, Anne.”

When we were finally in the safety of my room, Niall slapped a hand on his forehead and dropped himself onto the floor, crossing his legs.

“I didn’t mean for her to hear that!”

“It’s fine, she liked you.”

Confusion was etched all over the Irish boy’s face as he tried to figure out where in that exchange I gathered that information. 

“My mum will hardly get mad over someone calling her vase a waste of space. It’s not that important,” I explained. I made my way over to Niall after I shut the door quietly, and as I stood beside him, I ruffled his hair, realizing that he was the perfect height for that.

I could see him pout in pseudo-annoyance but he let me continue.  
  


* * *

  
I’d always known I was at least bisexual. I didn’t just wake up one day and shock myself with the revelation that I might like guys – because really, I think I’d just known all along, but it wasn’t something that particularly haunted me. Niall on the other hand – if not proven by the excited manner in which he had shown me his extensive porn stash not too long ago – seemed almost completely straight. But of course, as fate would have me, I had to fall head over heels for my straight best friend.

Since I was at least 80% sure he was straight, I promised myself to never make a move lest I scared him away and altered our friendship forever. There was nothing in the world I would hate to lose more.

The topic never came up since it would be awkward, but I had always wondered why, with all his charm and good looks, Niall had never been associated with a single girl for as long as I had known him.  
  


* * *

  
The national library of our city was situated at the center of the downtown area, next to the biggest urban public park. Today, our mission was to break into the roof of the national library.

The building was majestic, its exterior strongly suggesting neoclassical architectural designs with its large white pillars and long windows. It stood five floors up, and although it was surrounded by skyscrapers and was by no means one of the taller buildings of the area, its location next to the park allowed for a great view from the front of the building. The library overlooked the lake in the park which glittered under the sun in a different way when sunlight hit the watery surface from different angles during the day.

Sneaking behind a bookshelf was a certain Harry Styles, who was looking through the gaps between the books at Niall Horan. Niall looked from left to right to make sure nobody was around. Right when blue eyes turned to meet green, the signal was conveyed, and both boys raced to the back door of the library behind all the shelves.

Making sure to close the door quietly, they began to make their way up the stairs.

“How did you know the emergency exit door wasn’t going to alert the fire alarm?” Harry whispered harshly.

“I realized that you had to push the door with certain strength for it to go off,” Niall replied quietly. “But shhh we don’t want anyone to hear us.”

The rest of their trek upstairs was silent as they took three steps at a time. 

“That was too easy,” Niall commented offhandedly as they arrived at the door that separated the two boys from the roof. “Hardly needed to sneak around much.”

He took out something that definitely used to be a paper clip and began picking the lock on the door. It didn’t take more than a minute for the lock to pop open.

The roof of the national library was definitely up there as one of the best roofs the two boys had ever broken into. Almost immediately as the door opened, they were hit with the best unobstructed view of the public park and the lake – and it was definitely much better than looking at it through any window.

“Wow…” they gasped at the same time – sounding almost identical.

Harry walked to the edge of the roof and placed his hands on the railings.

Below one could see the traffic of the city right by the park. It was around five in the evening – the time people got off work and took their cars to the road. A traffic jam, thought Harry as he tore his eyes from the road and began to observe the park. . From the roof of the library one could see children playing football on the grassy open fields and people taking walks on the cobble-stone paths. The lake shone a little orange as the sun was just beginning to set, and the color bathed the city in a warm haze.

“You know what they say,” Harry suddenly spoke as he tried to figure out how far he could see. “If you want to be able to see things a longer distance away, you need to go up a floor.”

“Hmm,” Niall hummed in response. “Where’s that from?”

“A Chinese poem, Climbing White Stork Tower.”

Faintly, the sound of a snort was carried away by the wind.

“How the hell do you know that stuff?” Niall asked. Somehow the blond boy had materialized right beside Harry. The amused smile on his lips reached his blue eyes – which contained patches of yellow near the pupil and under the dimming evening lighting, the contrast was more evident than ever.

“I just read,” Harry replied. But he was lost because Niall was next to him and looking up at him with what could be admiration.

“How does the whole poem go?” Niall asked.

Harry didn’t hesitate as he recited what he remembered of the lines.

“The day slips behind mountains, the yellow river flows toward the sea, if you want to see another thousand miles, climb up to a higher level.”

There was a pause as Niall seemed to contemplate the meaning, but his face suddenly lit up.

“We’re on the roof!”  
  


* * *

  
The view from the roof was slowly changing from a warm orange to a dark blue.

“We need to come here again,” Niall said quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled as he gestured at the view. “This is my favorite view of the city by far. I never noticed how gorgeous our park was.”

Niall hummed as he stepped back from the edge and removed his backpack. He sat down on the floor cross-legged.

“Next time I’ll bring us a few beers yeah?” the blond boy said cheerily as he leaned back on his backpack and stared up at the orange sky.

Harry nodded as he, too, looked up.

What he really wanted to do then was thank Niall for sharing this with him – that every single building had a roof and you just needed to know how to get to it… for all the good times they had trying to break into the roofs of every single building, whether a success or a failure. But that would get sappy and Harry knew Niall wouldn’t appreciate that. It would ruin the perfect moment on the best roof they’d ever been on.  
  


* * *

  
Climbing up the water pipe on the side of a building definitely went on the list of one of the most dangerous things Harry Styles had ever done.

But Niall was never fazed. Not when they were stood in front of the class doing their final presentation for their project, and not when they were ten floors up on the side of an office building, hidden by the shadow of another skyscraper, climbing up a water pipe.

They had found that there were no stairs that led to the roof of this building they were currently clinging onto. Ten storeys high, the building’s stairway only went up to the ninth floor – which was the top floor – and the boys realized that they had to find their own way up beyond that.

Now, faced with the danger of losing grip and falling flat on his face, down ten storeys, Harry was beginning to question his own sanity and also Niall’s.

“I can see it!” exclaimed Niall who was a couple of feet ahead of Harry on the pipe. Harry didn’t respond and was trying his best not to look down.

“Shouldn’t have let you persuade me to continue after the ninth floor knowing that we had to climb the pipe,” Harry mumbled as he heaved his way up.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

It was a surprise to Harry, then, that he found himself five minutes later standing on the roof of the office building, alive.

“Whew! I thought for sure that was it for me,” the curly-haired boy sighed as he swiped his long hair out of his face.

“Aw come on Harry, when have we ever fallen off the side of a building when climbing a pipe?”

“If we keep doing that one day there will be an answer to that question.”

The two boys settled down on the roof, side by side, eyes closed as they felt the cool breeze run through their hair and caress their skin. It was surprisingly nice on the roof – a huge contrast to the dull heat of the side of the building by the water pipe as the air was stale and trapped between two walls. The roof, however, was cool and there was a nice wind going, not too strong, not too weak. The air was dry and it was a fresh change to be free of the ground-level pollution.

Niall was never fazed, or at least Harry had thought.

Because when Harry opened his eyes, Niall still had his closed. When Harry turned to look at his best friend, Niall’s face was peaceful and he truly looked like the innocent boy next door he had at first thought he was. His baby face was beyond deceiving normally but right now it seemed like the most natural thing ever.

Niall looked beautiful like that, with the wind gently lifting his shaggy blond hair, the strands brushing gently against his forehead. Harry had always imagined in moments like this that he would lean over and kiss those gently flushed cheeks that looked soft as rose petals, one side, and then the other. Then he would kiss Niall’s nose – a little wider at the tip, yet straight and pointy from the side. Then he would hold Niall’s face still with both hands, and he would place his forehead against his, looking down as they would both smile shyly at each other. Finally, he would slowly close the gap between their lips and the moment would be sweet and Niall’s lips would feel like soft velvet against his. They would melt into each other and sparks would fly and fireworks would go off.

But then all this would happen in Harry’s head, and then he would come back down to earth, to reality.

Before him, Niall was still sitting and enjoying the breeze with his eyes closed, thinking that Harry was doing the same.

But he wasn’t, because the next thing Harry knew, his mind was replaying the scene inside his head – the one he would always imagine, and he was leaning in and their faces were closer than ever. For a moment, he thought maybe he could just do it. Maybe he could do it now and gauge Niall’s reaction and then pretend it was all a joke.

He could feel the warmth of Niall’s skin now – they were so close that he could feel it through the air and they were barely touching. He could feel Niall’s breath fan over the side of his face as he exhaled peacefully. He wondered what Niall would do if he opened his eyes and saw how close Harry was to kissing him now.

But that didn’t need to be left to the imagination because suddenly blue eyes met green and Niall pulled away quickly in shock.

There was an awkward silence as they stared at each other, not sure what had just happened and not sure if something had changed. Something definitely felt out of place right now – like clockwork stuck for years threatening to start moving again… something they would have preferred to have kept frozen.

Before either of them could figure anything out, Niall was on his feet and he was running to the exit. He was gone in a flash, climbing down the pipes, the way they had come. Harry then took to his feet and chased after Niall’s shadow. He could feel his heart pounding ruthlessly against his ribcage like it was going to burst out any moment.

What had he done? All this time he had tried to feel his feelings locked up so he could preserve his friendship with Niall. All this time he knew, oh, he  _knew_  Niall wasn’t into guys like that and yet he was hopeful and he thought he had a chance. He was so  _stupid_. He could never take this back.

The climb down the pipe felt easy this time round, but Harry’s mind was somewhere else, not for a moment giving a fuck that he was ten storeys off the ground and could fall and die if he wasn’t careful. Movement nimble as a cat, he leaped onto the window on the 9th floor and let himself in.

The curly-haired boy grabbed on to Niall’s arm as they rounded a corner on the stair case. Both boys were panting from exertion as the world around them seemed to stop and for a moment it was as though they were the only two people left.

Let’s just get it straight now: Harry knew that he shouldn’t have done what he was about to do. He knew he shouldn’t have gone on and made things worse. But standing there, seeing Niall like that, spinning around, eyes widening like he had seen a ghost when he realized that Harry had caught up… he couldn’t help it. Why did he have to look at him like that? Was he that disgusting?

Angry, hurt, and frustrated, Harry yanked Niall towards him and crushed their lips together. It was a hasty, harsh, and aggressive kiss, spilling over with pent up emotion. And Niall froze, but only for a fraction of a second before he landed a hard punch on Harry’s shoulder, effectively pushing the younger boy away.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m not gay!” the blond boy yelled.

Harry’s hand shot up immediately to soothe his injury. His shoulder began throbbing incessantly but his mind was elsewhere.

All that could be heard for the next thirty seconds was Niall’s furious heavy breathing as he glared heatedly at his best friend. Harry matched Niall’s fury with a glare of his own, but this soon watered down to a dejected expression as he realized that he had essentially been rejected, and that Niall probably thought he was disgusting. They probably weren’t even going to be friends anymore. Hunching his shoulders, Harry stared at the ground, unable to meet Niall’s eyes. Maybe the older boy was going to punch him again, slap him, and then walk away. And then they’d never speak to each other again and they’d go on with their lives as though they hadn’t known each other.

Or maybe Niall would tell everyone in school that he was gay and nobody would want to be friends with him and the rest of his life in school was going to be a living hell.

In that moment as Niall made his decision as to what to do next, Harry’s future was literally within the blond boy’s grasp, free for him to influence.

But then suddenly the air changed and Harry could feel his entire being relax as he heard a quiet sigh escape from Niall’s lips. A hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing him gently.

The thing about Niall was that he had very expressive eyes, and just one look at him you would be able to tell if he was genuine or not – that was, at least Harry could tell. And he knew that if he looked up and met Niall’s eyes in this moment, all would be forgiven because he could feel it in the way Niall was squeezing his shoulder that he was apologetic.

But Harry was angry at Niall, and he didn’t want to forgive him just yet.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” came Niall’s voice carefully and slowly. It took all of Harry’s will power not to step back as Niall took a step closer and placed both hands on his shoulders to hold him still and attempt to make their eyes meet. “Come on, look at me…”

Niall’s voice was soothing, and you could probably see the apology floating in the air, taste it on your tongue if you opened your mouth… and against Harry’s better judgment, he looked up. Those electric blue eyes, right in front of him, were hard enough to avoid with his head down, but now looking directly at Niall’s face, it was impossible to deviate your sight.

And that was it. All the anger evaporated, just like that. Niall had always had that kind of influence over him. Harry had always known.

“I know I shouldn’t have reacted so harshly, so I’m sorry, Harry,” Niall began, looking straight into green eyes as he tried to feel his position in this mess. Harry had never been uncomfortable about his bisexuality, and he also didn’t  _know_  this, but Niall had always had a hunch. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. “But you can’t force it on me like that… all right?”

Harry nodded solemnly, realizing what he had done and that actually he had no right to be angry at Niall. It was his entire fucking fault, everything, this mess.

“I mean I just…” Niall paused, removing a hand from Harry’s shoulder to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. He pulled on clumps of his blond hair before dropping the hand to his side and exhaling softly. “I’ve never thought about guys like that before. I’m just… I don’t think I can you know? Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Harry responded quietly.

“No, it’s fine. And I want to let you know that you’ll always be my best friend no matter what, yeah?”

Niall’s Irish accent lingered in the air a bit before dissipating deep inside Harry’s heart.

“This won’t change anything,” he continued. “So let’s forget about it, okay?”

From the moment Harry heard those words come out of Niall’s mouth onwards, Harry had felt a weak tugging at the edge of his heart that was constant and would bother him during the most inconvenient times of the day.

They tried to go back to the way they were, act like nothing had changed. But that was easier said than done. Harry’s touch might linger on Niall’s hand a little and it wasn’t like he didn’t use to do that before, but then gingerly Niall would jerk away and look off to the side. It really wasn’t the same anymore.

Sometimes, the strange sting in his heart would feel stronger, more painful, and other times it would be like it wasn’t there at all. Faintly, Harry recognized that feeling as loneliness.  
  
  


* * *

 

Sometimes one moment could change everything.

You’d think that meant I did something drastic, but it was really my inaction that created the moment and then further inaction that instigated the change.

You see, lately I’d been noticing these things – things that I didn’t notice before but suddenly became more apparent to me after… that incident with Harry that I try not to think about. Yet these things I’d been noticing were taking me back to that memory, making me relive the moment when he grabbed me and kissed me.

We really tried to make things normal again, tried to act like nothing had happened, but we both knew something was different. Maybe it was more me than it was him… every time he reached over and did something casual like touch my arm or pat my head, I had to stop myself from shying away in case he got hurt by the gesture. Yet it was the thing I did automatically now. His touch made my skin burn in the most foreign way – something I hadn’t felt or noticed before this. I couldn’t understand it. It shouldn’t be a good feeling, yet there was conflict within my mind over it – this tingly burning sensation.

And then there was also that uneasy fire in the pit of my stomach that made my insides churn painfully. Every time I saw Harry with  _her_ , I wanted to fold over and retreat into my own world. I hated that feeling.

But it couldn’t be?  
  
  


* * *

 

We were on our way home from school when Harry told me he had asked Leila to prom.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised  _but I was_  and I was so shocked that I had momentarily forgotten that Harry wasn’t gay – he was bi.

In the spur of the moment, I said something I still mentally hit myself over whenever I remember.

“But I thought you liked me?”

Harry froze then. He had a look on his face like I had grown a second head but in his green eyes there was also a spark of something I had come to know so much better recently – anger.

I felt my face heat up as my mind caught up with the situation and I realized just how stupid what I had just said sounded. I could have dug a hole and buried myself right there.

I guess I had also come to learn that the scariest thing wasn’t words. People often said that words were sharp and could seriously hurt others… but I had come to know that more so than words, it was the lack thereof that frightened me. It was the words  _left unsaid_.

Harry didn’t respond. He carried on walking.

“Leila’s nice. I like her,” he told me, acting as though he hadn’t heard what I had uttered previously at all.

I didn’t know if it was appropriate for me to feel that way, but in that moment, I felt  _hurt_ by the lack of response. I shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t entitled to be hurt at all, given how much my slipup had shown that I took Harry and his feelings for granted. Yet I couldn’t help it, could I? – to be unable to return Harry’s feelings wholly. That wasn’t something either of us deserved.

But what was I saying? It wasn’t like I expected Harry to still like me after I had essentially told him I wasn’t interested. It wasn’t like I wanted him to like me that way – because why would I?  
  
  


* * *

 

It was a huge struggle, but watching Harry dance with Leila at prom, I could finally put a finger on (and accept) that the painful feeling in my stomach was jealousy.

Of course, Harry was my best friend. To see him spend time with someone else over me was a change I wasn’t used to. It was probably natural for me to feel this way.

It was petty, but I guess I might have casually walked past the couple a few times, accidentally knocking into Leila while she was dancing to make her lose her footing. I did that about five times and I swear the second time it was an accident.

I had never felt so out of it before, like I wasn’t in control of my actions and I was acting on instinct. My legs were taking me towards Harry and Leila wanting to pull them apart and shake Harry until he realized I was there.

It was no use though. An hour into prom, I was sat glumly at the side trying not to look on jealously but I couldn’t help it. With a sigh I got up and made my way to the exit, shuffling on my pathetic feet as I mulled over my current pathetic self. Who did I think I was?

Instead of continuing to stay at prom to feel sorry over my dateless pathetic ass, I decided that it was probably a better idea to leave and feel sorry for myself elsewhere.

The night was young and the spring air was cool as I stepped outside. Staring up at the dark sky, I realized where I wanted, no,  _needed_  to be.  
  
  


* * *

 

The roof of the national library was easy to get onto compared to some of the roofs I’d cracked into before, but it was still by far my favorite. Due to its location next to the park, the area around the library was usually peaceful – and that was exactly what I needed, to be able to see the sky, unobstructed, undisturbed, to enjoy the view of the lake without the constant city noises distracting me. This was the place I always went to calm down, to regain my sense of self.

I immediately felt calmer as I cracked open the lock at the door and let myself onto the roof. The breeze was soothing as caressed my skin and I closed my eyes for a brief moment before making my way over to the edge to look at the park. The light glittered as usual over the serene surface of the lake – the sight no more mesmerizing than any other given time.

I had perhaps stood there for about five minutes just letting my mind wander until suddenly it all came crashing down on me like a comet in the middle of the pacific ocean. Did the sound of the comet hitting the water still exist if nobody heard it? But in my mind it was loud and clear. It all made sense. The reason why I had reacted so rashly to Harry getting too close to me, the reason why I had been so angry – no,  _scared_ , I was scared. And the reason why things had never been the same again, why I shied away from the smallest touch and became increasingly aware of the way my skin tingled only after the briefest contact. Finally, the reason why I felt uneasy, irrationally mad and not in control of my own emotions –  _jealous_ … why…

The truth was, of course, the toughest thing to admit to myself after living in denial for so long. I had thought, perhaps, that I could continue to do so and pretend I was right, and then maybe it would become reality.

Luckily, or perhaps to my utmost misfortune, I was interrupted in thoughts in the most timely manner.

“Niall?” a breathless voice came from the door as it swung open, an unpleasant creaking sound filling the air due to the speed.

I didn’t move from my spot though. I continued to stare at the lake, pretending I was still the only one on the roof of the library.

“Niall, why did you leave?”

The voice was getting closer. I could hear the footsteps approaching and feel myself tense up as I realized that he was  _right behind me_.

And then he was beside me, green eyes peering at me like I was a child throwing a tantrum, which I was not.

“Niall, you okay?”

His voice was soft then, like I was fragile and he needed to be careful around me. I wasn’t sure why he felt that way.  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
Don’t get me wrong.

Leila was definitely one of the nicer girls I’d been with, and I didn’t regret asking her to prom. She was lovely, very pretty, sweet, and funny… but  _Niall_  – he kept running onto the scene and doing confusing shit like pretending to bump into her. It was petty, and I was supposed to get angry with him for ruining my date like that. But all I could feel was lightness in my heart as I realized that he actually cared and that  _perhaps_ …

And then I saw, out of the corner of my eye, his silhouette disappearing into the cool night. I let go of Leila and apologized then, but it was a half-assed apology because I turned around too quickly and began to make my way to the exit. I’d apologize to her properly later.

As I ran into the night, my shoes hitting against the asphalt ground with every step I took, I found myself cursing as I realized what I was doing. I was supposed to be angry with Niall for being petty, for confusing me like that, but I found that I was angrier with myself for being so excited about the prospects of this development. It was stupid, because I tried to let go, I tried to let things go back to normal and act like nothing had happened but it was impossible especially with the way Niall acted. I just couldn’t get over him.

Niall wasn’t difficult to find. I didn’t even second guess myself as I made my way toward _that place_.

When I pushed the flimsy metal door open, the force I applied overwhelmed the hinges and a loud and unpleasant screech alerted the sole occupant on the roof of my arrival.

“Niall?”

I knew I had been running, but it really took trying to force my voice out of my lungs for me to realize how breathless I was. I was beginning to feel my heart push against my ribcage with every pulse.

“Niall? Why did you leave?”

He didn’t move though – didn’t even flinch to acknowledge that he heard me. A frown marred my face as I stepped forward and made my way towards Niall. He still didn’t move – didn’t breathe – when I stood right behind him. I knew he could feel my breath at the back of his neck, the warmth of my body close to his, like how I could feel him close to me, but even if he did he didn’t react.

Irritated by the lack of response, I stepped beside him to peer at his face. I knew he couldn’t avoid me that way. And I was right – too right, perhaps – because I was met with blue eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall.

“Niall, you okay?”

Then I was worried, too, because he was crying and I didn’t know why – how – he could possibly be so upset. That was what I thought, until those wide eyes blinked and a tear rolled out of the corner, leaving a trail of moisture on pale flushed cheeks.

You know how sometimes you just stop thinking and give yourself to the wind? Spinning… spinning… like ice-skating in the heart of winter – out of control and unstoppable…

Then, at once, you recline upon your heels and come to an alarming halt. The world continues to spin around you but you,  _you_  have spun into another dimension where time has stopped.

I must have acted with thinking, then, because when thought did return to me I had Niall in my arms. He was trembling a bit and my shoulder was wet, but under the starless sky of the city it felt okay. In that moment, it felt like we were the only two people left in the world and even as our surroundings continued to spin, we were standing in a timeless space by ourselves.

I had hugged him first, I think, but then he pulled me close and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, resting firmly on my back. Niall liked to bury his head into your shoulder, wholly and securely, when he hugged you – tingles traveled down my spine as warm breath caressed the skin of my neck intimately.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I whispered against Niall’s ear. Slowly, I pulled away and hoped that, perhaps, we could talk about what was going on and why he was sad.

Later, I would fully understand why eyes were like the window into a person’s mind.

I had looked into Niall’s eyes then; the tears had stopped but blue orbs were still glimmering under the pale moonlight. And then – I didn’t know if I saw it first or if I felt it first, but suddenly, I just understood. I could have leapt in delight right there, pull Niall in for another hug and maybe kiss him gently under the stars, but before I could do any of that, Niall let out a soft gasp and pushed himself away from me.

He fled the roof then. I could almost hear him mumble a quick ‘sorry’ but it was lost in the wind.

There were no stars in the sky that night.

It took a few seconds for the moment to seize me, but when the shock sunk in, all I could do was sink my knees to the ground and let my head fall backwards as I look up blankly at the sky.

There were no stars in the sky that night, but if I had looked just a little farther to the left, I would have seen a single diamond shining down at me that looked uncannily like hope.  
  
  


* * *

 

On the same roof was where I found Niall Horan, a week later, fumbling and stuttering, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers as he struggled to get his words out.

I never thought I’d see him that way. Niall Horan may be rash, he could throw tantrums and sometimes (more than I’d like) run away from situations that overwhelmed him, but he was never shy or uncertain. He was certainly not this blushing pretty boy before me who scratched the back of his neck nervously as he played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes were downcast and would not meet mine.

 “U-hm, Harry, I, listen, I,” he stuttered on, his Irish accent particularly apparent now as he struggled to found the words to express what he wanted to convey. “I—ugh, I think I like… !!”

Silence. 

A frown marred the gap between his eyebrows as the words seemingly got caught in his throat and the pause between words felt like an eternity.

But then I was never the type to see an opportunity like this and not seize it, you see. I never thought I would even come close to being in this situation let alone, now,  _knowing_ that I had a certain chance. So you know what? Fuck it.

I grabbed Niall by the arm and pulled him towards me, and kissed him.

It wasn’t the best kiss I’d ever had, given the context, the moment, our awkward positions and the way he was frozen like a rock, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar as he fell into shock.

I would have laughed if I hadn’t been kissing him, I think, because his reaction was too cute.

Cute, perhaps, Niall was, to the untrained eye, but he was usually much more mischievous and knowing than he was cute. Right now, however, he was  _damn cute_.

I began running my fingers through his hair then, massaging his scalp because I knew that relaxed him and that he loved it when people touched his hair – a secret, because he said it was embarrassing. He let out an (he would say this was embarrassing too but to me it was) adorable sigh as my fingers worked through his hair and began to relax into the touch. He didn’t seem to mind that our lips were moving against each other anymore, so I gently licked his bottom lip, which caused him to press closer to me and angle his head better for the kiss.

He was just starting to get used to it, but I had to pull away then because I think the message was clear and I think it was conveyed by both ends.

“Wow,” Niall said breathlessly. His lips were now swollen too, the same color as his reddened cheeks and ears. It was a good look for him, I thought, and I took note.

“What do you think?” I decided to ask. I put my hands on either side of Niall’s face, gently holding him still as  placed my forehead against his, closing my eyes to wait for a response.

“I think…” He mulled over it a little bit more, and I didn’t need to know if his eyes were open or close, if he was nervous or relaxed. I could feel it in the way his breath fanned over my skin – a little bit nervous, maybe, from the way one of his exhales was a little choppy, but he wasn’t going to run this time, not this time. “I think maybe if you give me some time, I could give this a go.”

It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was something, and I could take it.

“Okay,” I said.

And he must have heard it in my voice, because then he added: “But that was nice, that – that kiss, I mean. It felt… nice.”

Against my cool palms Niall’s face gradually felt warmer.

I smiled then, and opened my eyes. Blues were everywhere, up, down, left right, off to the side a bit and then back up… but then they finally met green, and hands shot up to cover one of my hands on his face. Hand squeezed hand gently. Our skin tones were a bit different. Niall was very pale, but in a luminescent way, like the moonlight. In fact, it was evening now, and the moonlight was bouncing off his skin and perhaps he could be the moon himself.

He smiled back at me and I decided that he wasn’t like the moon. He was a bit warmer (his skin was still smooth and pretty like the moon but), his smile warm and so bright like the sun during midday.

I let my hands fall from his face but his hand didn’t leave mine. We glanced at our linked fingers, then at each other before letting out a simultaneous snort.

“Let’s go,” I said calmly as I tugged on Niall’s hand. He smiled at me, but the smile soon turned into a lopsided smirk as I spotted a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Dinner at yours, posh boy! I hope Anne won’t mind!”

And with that he was back to his usual self and the shy, uncertain Niall Horan was gone. Later I found myself devising ways to make him stammer and blush the way he had that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Infinity and all its related works are the “rural” stories and this one is the “city” story. It came to me that perhaps I should write one of boys in the city. 
> 
> The roofs idea came from a guy from my creative writing class who shared with us his adventures of breaking into every single roof in the town of my university. He said there was a way to get to every roof, you just had to look for it. Sometimes (a lot of the time) you pick locks, and other times you have to climb walls and pipes. It was inspiring. 
> 
> The title and the reference to giving yourself to the wind… spinning, and stopping yet everything keeps spinning… that’s from William Wordsworth’s Prelude (search ‘and in the frosty season’). It’s my favorite poetry excerpt I studied in high school because of the imagery and I thought I'd bring it back. I also used my favorite chinese poem in this story as you read… I really put that one out there so no need to explain!


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